Windows To The Soul
by Amathist Fwirrel
Summary: Magic, the substance of chaos, and the binding factor of the two relms-the G.F.s and the mortals. But when humans try to controll the powers of the Gardian Forces, hell starts breaking loose.
1. Putting things in motion

_**Disclaimer: Amazingly, no, I don't own FF8. I only own who I have created, i.e. Selax Ranner and others yet to be introduced…**_

_**This is my first Fan-Fiction, so, um…**_

_**ENJOY!**_

It had lain in the sand for three thousand years. Three thousand years after its civilisation had crumbled around it, one lone prophets words from the walls of an even older temple are unearthed, at last, by a wandering traveller who is also a budding archaeologist and treasure hunter. Ancient text, made smooth by the raging sand storms that sweep the Centrina continent, is slipped into his satchel, padded by cotton wool.

The man smiles, today has been a good day.

Later, the text will be deciphered…by the highest bidder, of course. He can tell that the highest bid will be enough to put himself in retirement. Or buy him a new home with a sea view. Perhaps both.

One thing is certain, he thinks, is that the artefact will change is life.

He has no idea, of course, how morbidly true that is.

He has made the phone calls. Certain…Gentlemen - and ladies, of course, in this day and age – have placed bids on the object. There is only one more prospector to see his prize, his triumph, from the desert. He can just imagine his name, **Selax Ranner **printed on the front of the tabloids, but for his price range, being anomalous is the only way to go. None of his finds will ever be credited to him, but to rich people-but the bundles of cash that pad out his existence make it all worth it, and bury the pangs of sadness.

Yes, Selax likes his existence.

Mr. Ranner eyes the clock beside him, and smiles. His highest bidder is coming to view the tablet. He shuts his eyes, and leans back in his chair

"Three, he mutters under his breath, …Two…One, and…"

The lights cut out, he can tell, even through closed eyelids.

The Acquaintance walks through the door, and settles himself in a chair.

"Keep you're eyes closed. You know who I am, what I want, and what my bid is."

Selax grins. He pushes a briefcase forward that resides on his desk, towards his client, but his hand never leaves the top of the case.

"I am afraid sir, you have been out bid. Do you wish to -ahem- raise the stakes?

'Sir' was not pleased. He did not come here to barter. He came to take, by any means possible. But he was reasonable, well more than his other 'partners' were, and gave Mr Ranner one chance.

"I do not sir. I wish you to take my offer. Now."

Selax laughs and shakes his head.

"Hah! You've got attitude kid, but I'm afraid the answer is no-"

'Sir' pullshis katana out from between Mr Ranner's ribs, where it is suddenly protruding and slides the brief-case from under the mans steadily cooling finger tips. A small click of the clasps, and the case is open, showing the deceased treasure-hunters pride and joy. The tablet.

His Employer will be pleased.

'Sir' turned to the corpse.

"I was, Mr Ranner, hoping for some challenge.

Your first mistake was to show me the case.

The second was to tell me that others had seen the prize. They must die too, now.

The third was that you didn't except the money. Always except the money."

He pauses from lecturing the body, and bends over the still form. He shuts his glassy eyes with one hand. He always leaves the corpses with their dignity. 'Sir' feels this alone sets him apart from other assassins for hire.

"We will meet again in generations to come, Mr Ranner, I am sure of it."

Briefcase in hand, he walks out the door, to disappear, wrath-like down a corridor.

"Next time, however, I hope you will have learnt you're lesson."

Tonight on Cross-Fire, the sudden aggression of Galabadia, and the resulting political crisis, and how it could have been averted. Also, The Dollet school bombings, where the victims cause of death is still unknown. But first, we plot the time it took, and the catalysts, for Dollet to descend in anarchy"

Squall levelled the remote at the T.V.

_People spend too much time reminiscing_, he thought angrily_, if they spent as much time and effort whining and moaning as they did helping to solve the problem, we would not be IN this situation._

The amazing thing is, this is old news. Six-month old news. But the T.V. companies are showing this as what's happening today. And why can they do this? Because the major T.V. production companies are connected with Galabadia and Timber for the most part, and the new 'Vizier' is putting pressure on them, and before you know it, you have a situation worse than even before the Second Sorceress War, where people don't know anything. Even I don't know what's happening with the war…and I'm supposed to be the Commander of Ballamb Garden. Even with all our spy equipment… We. Know. Nothing.

Pulling himself upright, he pulled his shoes on and walked to his office door. He caught his reflection in on of the many windows in his office. Ugh.

His messy brown hair covered his storm-grey eyes, which were ringed with black bags. 3 years after defeating Ultamecia, and he was reduced to the walking corpse that he was. His friends were faring the same. Anyone with any amount of power was loosing sleep to the political nightmare that they were caught in.

_Now the Galabadian Garden has closed itself off to Trabia and us. Irvine tried to contact us, but it was apparent that it was getting harder and harder for him to communicate with us. Any phone call he made was bugged. Any letters we received were tampered with. And then…silence. Nothing._

_Selphie was devastated-she came to Ballamb crying her eyes out. She said that she was lonely-she wanted to be with the 'Orphanage gang' again._

_I let her in. it was against all protocol, against all advise I had received about handling the Garden in times of crisis, about favouritism. But…no one had the heart to turn her away, not even me._

_He is now probably dead. Selphie and Zell are still waiting, hoping that he is still alive. Funny, Zell hated him at first. Me, well, I assume he's dead. Simple. Its like he's disappeared off the face of the earth, and, well, death is usually the cause of disappearance._

_I'm only thinking practically. I use facts, not hopes and dreams, no matter how much it hurts. I won't lie to myself…_

Faint yells. From downstairs. 1st floor. Squall was dragged roughly from his revere, mostly by his training. The entrance, he decided, was where the noise was coming from and he turned for the lifts, moving on auto-pilot, unaware of the mired of tiny orders ingrained in his mind from constant training. In fact, it was only when he arrived at the lifts that he realised where he was going.

_I have got to stop doing this._

Sighing, he entered the lift to see what was going on.

Perhaps then, he could sleep.

"Whadda ya mean I can't go in, I mean, I'm one of the Hero's!"

"No can do sir."

"Listen, I can't explain it to you right now-just let me the God Damn in."

"No. I can't sir"

"You do know who I am, don't you?"

"No sir"

"This is gettin' repetitive. Now lis-"

Squall found himself face to face with a man assumed dead arguing with a security guard.

Ivrine Kinneas.

Suspiciously, he walked forward.

"Ivrine…?"

Both men swivelled round on their heels

"Squall!" yelped Ivrine.

"Commander!" squeaked the guard

"Jefferson", Squall said, nodding at the guard, "…go get Xu"

Both men waited until the lower ranking SeeD scuttled off.

"Squall, you look like shit."

"Thanks, Squall muttered sarcastically. It was true. He needed more sleep, but the world wasn't going on hold just for him. "But enough about me…you have some explaining to do"

**_Well, thats it for me. Review please. Tune in next week for, ummm, stuff. It gets much better in the form of action. With blood, rebel groups and back stabbing. _**

**_Yay._**


	2. Of hackers and fugitives

**_Chapter Two._**

_**From the authoress: more introductions-but the plot thickens.**_

_**Disclaimer: …Whoever is stupid enough to think I own any of the Square Soft cast, shouldn't be allowed to buy/own anything hot, sharp, or is small enough to swallow. I only own my own characters, for example Kim, or Ranner, and my plot.**_

_**Sorry to sound patronising, but, really, we are on a site called 'fanfiction'. Its kinda obvious that us poor writers own basically squat-'cept their own plot. **_

**_Disclaimers piss me off._**

_**Enjoy and review!**_

Darkness blanketed the room. The only source of light was a blinking computer screen, turning everything near it a sickly green colour. Slumped in front of it was a tall girl in her teens with ruddy-brown hair. Footsteps approached.

Whump, whump, whump, whump…

The door opened.

"Kim…what are the statistics of …oh for _fucks_ sake…**_KIM WAKE UP!"_**

Kim, who had been having a rather nice dream, tried to sit up and swivel round in her chair, _and_ to pretend that she had been awake all the time _simultaneously_, ended up falling off her chair. Painfully.

"Kim I leave you alone for _one freaking_ minute on an all-nighter, and what do you do? You fall asleep! For gods sake what the hell do you think we're running here?"

Kim whimpered and pulled herself off the floor.

_Yay. A lecture. She's not going to shut up for a while now if I don't produce some good news about what I was working on… What the hell was I working on? Oh crap. Hyne, think Kim, think! I was…uh…running a search, about…something…uhhh…access codes? No. Galabdia? No. Someone who a probably do fighting…that would be… Seeds. Info on them. Yes that's right…I hacked into Esther's main frame and…_

Kim glanced at the screen.

"Got good news m'mam!"

Even if they were best friends, she had learnt that it was best to talk to her using formality when she was in her rages. You tended to escape with you're hearing intact and all you're limbs attached that way.

"What?"

Frankly Kim didn't know herself what exactly type of news was it, but it was news that the screen was flashing 'Search Complete'. Any port in a storm.

Flashing her friend a big smile, she jerked her thumb at the screen.

"Go see for you're self."

Slowly her leader walked over to the screen, and let her fingers dance over the keyboard.

"Good job."

Kim sighed in relief.

Irvine peered at the familiar faces crowded around him and grinned. Cadets, Seeds and old friends swarmed on masse to see the figure that had previously been considered dead. And _hell_ was he enjoying himself.

So much so that he was disappointed when Quistis broke up the crowds. But of course everything had its merits…namely Selphie.

She was the picture of happiness, She was bouncing on the balls of her feet, grinning manically, twirling her weapon above her head. Once, twice, swinging it in lazy arcs above her brown haired head, thrice… and she caught it deftly in one hand. She didn't look at him. Irvine walked hesitantly to her, and tapped her shoulder. Selph…listen, I-I'm sorr-."

Selphie pounced

"IrvyIrvyIrvyohmygodimissedyousomuchdeargodWehavesomuchtocatchupon…"

Slowly Squall opened his eyes. He felt dizzy, sick, and exhausted, even after hours of sleep. Everything was fuzzy, his eyes couldn't focus. He was vaguely aware that his thoughts, once deep, so deep that he oft got in trouble for it, was now piecemeal and incoherent.

He remembered, slowly that the had been dragged, literally, by Rinoa towards his room, sometime after dawn, telling him over and over again that he needed sleep, how he was making himself ill-things that he'd been hearing over and over again for months now. He had, for lack of better words collapsed from exhaustion, enroute to his dorm, and so _now_ he must be in... Either Rinoa's room or the hospital wards of the infirmary.

Bright intrusive lighting was all that he could see when he opened his eyes, so he guessed that he was in the hospital wing.

_Click, click, click_.

Hard heels on a stone floor, which he presumed to be Dr. Kawoki.

"Commander, did I, you're physician warn you about this? Did I not tell you this would happen?"

"…" Old habits were hard to break, and Squall had for the moment slipped back to the seed cadet he once was.

The doctor clucked her tongue, sighed and shuffled her notes.

"Squall…you cannot keep this up-you do know that, don't you? You, and you alone, are driving yourself far too hard."

"…" Silence. It was so easier this way.

"Squall, I know that you can hear me, and so, I'll tell you now. I'm giving you resting time, a weeks bed rest to be precise, and-"

"A…week…?" Even to him he sounded ridiculously weak and fragile.

"Ah, so you can speak after all. Yes, Squall an week."

The Commander wished that he could show her that she was talking rubbish, to jump out of bed, to at least _sit up_.

The doctor watched silently as the once proud Commander struggled to open his eyes, and then watched as he lapsed back into darkness.

She sighed to herself and sat down on the chair and began to type on her computer.

In another country someone else was hunched over their computer, this time running powerful decryption software. For five long and tedious hours the program had been churning the symbols and hieroglyphs that had been 'liberated' from Selax Ranner, five hours and the last line of the poem was being completed from the ancient text. As the decryption progress was complicated, the finished result was in 'old English' but it was readable.

It appeared to be an ancient prophecy.

Quistis shifted in her seat. Squall was ill at the worse possible time. Of course he couldn't help it, but still…

She glanced down at the memo, or rather wanted poster that lay lightly on Squall's large oaken desk. Irvine's face was plastered over it, along with the price the Galbadian army would give the person or persons who brought him back dead. There were an awful lot of zeros.

Sighing she brought the mike up to her lips, she hated, _hated_ herself for doing this…but it was for his own good. If Quistis allowed him to stay, it would be seen as an act of open defiance, however, if she handed him over, then he was good as dead.

She announced over the communication system that she wanted to speak to 'Mr Irvine Kinneas', and waited, fiddling with her hair as she listened to the lift whirr down to meet him. Kinneas was about to become a fugitive.

Okay…so its only two pages-later I might merge chapters one and two-but for now they're separate. Sorry about the wait.

_**Look! A shiny review box, click and leave a nice comment and Zerda will stop being a bitch and update quicker.**_

_**Next chappies got some good stuff.**_

_**Like unhallowed violence. **_

_**Yay!**_


	3. War Of The Resistance

Kim sighed, and plodded down the deserted alleyways of Dollet. Sighing, she looked up, at the stars, and wondered weather she was going to win this war for her country-her people, the last of an empire.

The Seed party leader, Nida, peered around the gloomy streets of Dollet, and waved his party onwards.

Kim stopped abruptly, and listened intently, her eyes darting everywhere. She wasn't sure what had alerted her, but something wasn't right…it was too quiet.

Nida however knew exactly what was wrong. There was someone in he alleyway he planned to use. Unfortunately, he or she would have to be neutralised.

Kim could hear…nothing, but she could _feel_ them there. Waiting, just waiting. It was more than one. That was definite-seeds most likely.

Nida drew his weapon, a light, studded mace, and trotted down the alleyway, flanked by two seed rookies.

Kim pulled out two handguns and beat a hasty retreat away from the entrance to the alleyway.

Nida paused. He didn't want unnecessary loss of life, and would go out of his way to avoid it. It was one of the reasons he had been assigned with the job of piloting the Garden-but he still did missions, to keep his skills-and qualifications.

Kim pushed herself into the wall behind some dumpsters, and prayed. She hated taking human life. And she was more than apprehensive about facing off with three, fully trained and merciless mercenaries. _Ballamb Garden_ mercenaries no less- where three of the Sorceress heroes originated.

"Who's there?" Nida called, swinging the mace and loosening the muscles in his arm.

Kim pulled herself out into view.

"Me."

"Madam, please do not be alarmed we are on a contract to inspect the alleyways of Dollet and find rebels."

"Ah… so we 'ave a problem here."

"You…belong to a resistance faction?"

"The names K.K-you?"

"I asked you a question"

"Yes…hey, if I'm gonna be put in the D-district and 'ave me brains fried, I wanna at least to know the squaddies name. Makes things easier, see?"

Nida frowned.

"Please madam, cooperate with us."

Kim senses already on edge from the Seed encounter, started going haywire, as a new much, much larger party, made it obvious. Not a sight or sound alerted her, she could _feel_ them coming. On the warpath.

She knew if she did warn the Seeds she would be breaking every moral code in her faction's rule book, as she would be "fraternising with the enemy" as her leader called it (it was only much later that Kim was told the meaning of the 'fraternising')

However, if she didn't the encroaching mob, many who she guessed she knew, it meant certain bloodshed. She reckoned half the mob, which was a hundred strong and gaining members as it moved, would die, if they attacked the Seeds.

Tough choice.

Kim turned to Nida.

"Lis'ten, half o' yew is gonna die out here, if yew stay 'ere. Not a threat, fact. There's, like…a hundred an' fifty people marchin' up 'ere…not my doin', but word spreads fast. Run like fuck if yew value yore lives-huh? I'll escort yew to the barriers o' Dollet, if yew try an' run now, without me, yew'll get lost. I'm not doin' this fore meself, but if tha' lot try an' fight yew, a lot o' people will die. Yew WILL die, eventually, but I can see tha' yew'll take down a lot with ya."

With this Kim pushed past Nida, desperately, and ran to another alleyway.

"Yew comin'?"

Xu, one of the 'Under-commanders' appointed alongside Quistis in Squalls absence, sat at the Commanders desk and settled herself more comfortably in his chair. Who knew it would be so soft-she had always imagined it would be hard as rock, for some reason.

"…So we escaped Dollet through its back streets and 'K.K.' as she called herself, watched us leave, and went back into the alleys. That all we have to report." Nida concluded. The mission had been, for lack of better words, a failure. But, the mysterious girl had seemed to be telling the truth. Aerial photos taken by one of Esther's satellites showed mobs running rampant around the city.

Xu frowned. That was the third time this week that the Seeds had been chased of by the inhabitants of Dollet. The country had become recaptured by Galabdians, after the famous school bombings, and now was running off a 'Mob rule' system, as the Galabadians quickly lost control of the city.

Sending troops to control the rampaging hoards of angry people had only made things worse, strengthening mob connections. Territories had been defined; slums had sprung up, winding alleys increased whilst the city itself teetered on the brink of economic depression.

To make matters worse, food was running out in the city, as people looted shops and burnt farms in defiance to their loss of independence.

Every time for the past week they had send troops into Dollet, a fight between the Seeds and the citizens arose, and the results were devastating, because the Seeds always won-and the death toll was rising.

"What are the current resistance groups we have identified – whoever this 'K.K.' is, it seems we might have friends in the rebel groups, and I want to know _which_ group it is."

Nida saluted, and paged one of the rookie Seeds, Harmel Ranner, who had accompanied him on the last mission.

Harmel strode in, dark skin shining in the light, and pushed his deadlocks more firmly behind his ear, and saluted.

"Well", Harmel began, "we only know two of the many rebel groups, because nether are bothering to hide the fact they are active, both of which are well documented rivals…"

_-Three Weeks Later-_

Kim tapped her fingers on the rickety desk and finished reporting to her superior.

"Yeah, Dawn, it wuz a total waste o' time…met some Seeds tho', sniffin' round tha' east-side slums."

Dawn Tallern raised a brown eyebrow.

"Seeds?"

K.K. nodded. "Yeah, they found me, an' I had ta lead 'em outta tha city tho', I didn't want 'em to go up against Tha Freedom Fighters, damn mob jus' had ta come along."

Dawn, the leader of the 'Rebel Phoenix's' gritted hr teeth.

Suddenly, a rookie rebel, called Ixl, bounded in followed by a white and brown cocker spaniel, and skidded to a stop in front of the desk. "Dawn!" She yelped, whilst the gun dog ran round her in circles, "In coming enemy, detected coming from the east side!"

"What?" said Dawn quietly, but urgently, "Since when? Who? What are they doing?"

"Scout n' Alph, say it's the F.F.- they've only just arrived-their all out in force."

"How many?"

"Hundred strong in the open, and at least that number waiting as reinforcements-what we gonna do?"

"Rouse the rest-this is a siege. If they wanna play the waiting game…we'll take them."

The rain poured down, soaking the Freedom Fighters throualy. Cal, the leader of the unruly mob that had assembled, noted to his dismay that his troops were getting dispirited-very dispirited…

Dawn waited, leaning on a windowsill that looked out at the amassed people. Time to find out their demands. If there were any, of course, the leader of the F.F. group was not known for planning ahead.

A howl of rage hit her ears. Dawn grinned, a reckless feeling stampeding through her body. She was about to do something stupid. And she was going to enjoy every minute of it.

"Tallern! Dawn Tallern!" Cal screamed into the pouring rain. "Answer me! Meet my demands or we WILL attack!"

"What if I don't like those demands?" replied a figure to his left.

"Wha- how'd you get here?"

"Wouldn't _you _like to know…" Grinning, Dawn answered. In reality, she had simply gone through the several back alleys of Dollet and across the sewer network that lead to the river and then circled back. Which is what the residents of her hideout were doing to escape.

One lesson a great leader must know is always having several backdoors. Another is to memorise everyone else's backdoors.

Cal stamped his foot down, and drew his weapon, a large axe.

"Fine. Have it your own damn way, bitch. We'll finish it here an' fuckin' now"

"Really. Careful with that axe, it weren't designed for people with less than three brain cells."

"Fuck you!" yelled Cal, ever the eloquent one, swinging his over grown hatchet from side to side. "I'll cut off you're damn hair and use it as a belt! Than we' ill see how damn cocky you are!"

Dawn had extraordinarily long brown hair, that snaked itself down her back in a plat, that finished at her knees. It was her pride and joy.

"Over my dead body." Dawn growled.

"Can be arranged."

With a horse shout the man leapt, bringing the war-axe down with stupendous force. Dawn side-stepped, and brought out a large thin blade, thicker than a rapier, but almost with the same length, perhaps slightly longer, thinner and lighter than a gun blade, but with the afor mentioned swords gun barrel. She twirled it over her head and backed away, rainwater burring her vision.

They clashed again, this time Cal forcing the young woman to jump to one side ungracefully. However, as she did so she brought her blade up, slicing his leg. The man, whimpering slightly, clutched the wounded limb, whilst Dawn pivoted, using the momentum from the last hit to bring her round. His back while he hunched over this leg was horribly exposed, but a sense of honour prevented her from striking him down like that. It did however, have no qualms about kicking him in the face.

Dawn waited for her rival to pull himself to his feet. As her did she slapped the ground with her gun-sabre, using the whippy blade to draw a line on the cobbled street.

"Come _on_, I _was_ expecting a challenge here, you know."

In actual fact, Dawn was worried. She needed to buy more time for her friends to escape, some of which were to young, or too injured to fight the horde.

As if some tainted answer to her unspoken plea, Cal raised his axe over his head.

"You want a challenge! Try THIS bitch!"

There was a pause, in which Dawn's blood had just enough time to run cold.

"ATTTAAAAAAAACCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKK!"

The reserves that Kim had pointed out earlier came pouring into the enclosed space, screaming in anger.

Dawn saw them coming and within three seconds, she was surrounded by street fighters all intent on removing her presence from the earth.

Oh holy mother of… 

Jabbing her blade forward, she impaled a fighter in front of her. They were inexperienced fighters-one thing she had in her favour. Ripping the whippy knife out, she kicked another in the face, whilst swinging diagonally downward, opening the stomach of a woman beside her.

"Fuck-" _ssswwiishhhh_-_thunk "-_you-" _ssswwiisshhh-thunk _"-Ass-" _swish-thunk_ "-HOLE!" She screamed, adrenaline pulsing through her veins like a drug, gun sabre cutting through the air with a hissing noise.

Dodging, yet again, this time a home made staff (a splintered pool cue) she took off up an alley, running fast in the opposite direction, away from from the amassing mobs, running for her life.

Skidding round another corner, a deafening whine filled the air. Flicking her head up she saw a telltale flash of dusky red in the sky, the legendary Raganok owned by the Ballamb SeeDs. The crowds and the fighting must of attracted them.

_As if, _Dawn thought bitterly,_ my day couldn't get any worse…_

Wheeee! Lots o' writing… 

_**Review - please?**_

_**I'm gonna go write the next chapter, its starting to really hot up now…**_

_**Tune in next time for – heck, wait and find out!**_


	4. Dreams

_**OOOHHHH- now it gets all song-ficcy. I was listening to this and I couldn't resist. However…this is important, it comes up later. **_

Squall was dreaming again. The same dream he had been haunting him lately. Some where in the background, a piano tinkled sweetly, and a voice began singing.

_There's a song that's inside of my soul.  
It's the one that I've tried to write over and over again   
I'm awake in the infinite cold.  
But you sing to me over and over and over again. _

He was walking through clouds and blue mist that stretched into infinity. His fear throbbed in the back of his head, and as the headache built, a form appeared in the clouds. Feline, certainly, but its shape was impossible to tell. Whenever he focused and recognised the form, it changed, into another. Lion, cheetah, lion, tiger, lion, griffon, lion, cat, winged lion, puma, then fish-lion hybrid and back to the lion again, sliding fluidly from form to another.__

So, I lay my head back down.   
And I lift my hands and pray  
To be only yours, I pray, to be only yours  
I know now you're my only hope. 

The shape-shifter bows and prances off into the mist, still sliding between forms.__

Sing to me the song of the stars.

Squall watched as the fog cleared away and found himself surrounded by glowing orbs, suspended by an unseen force. Squall suddenly felt…happy…peaceful, just staring up at the myriad of gleaming points of light. To his right he sees the constellation Leo. He reaches out and touches it. The zodiac suddenly starts spinning in a circler orbit, opening a portal. He stepped through.

_  
Of your galaxy dancing and laughing and laughing again.  
When it feels like my dreams are so far  
Sing to me of the plans that you have for me over again. _

Squall finds himself on a mountainous outcrop of rocks; to his right a waterfall is throwing itself over the sides of the mountain. To his left, a stream bubbles over its pebbly bed. Glancing at his surroundings he finds that this place is filled with crystal-clear rivers and lakes, some deep and others shallow. In the places that aren't covered by water, lush vegetation grows-grasses, ferns, small periwinkle-like flowers, and in the centre a huge oak tree, almost as big as Ballamb garden, grows.

Squall peered downwards, and sees great dusty plains stretching out into the distance, a savannah, split by a giant river and its many tributaries.__

So I lay my head back down.  
And I lift my hands and pray  
To be only yours, I pray, to be only yours  
I know now, you're my only hope. 

The shape shifter appears beside him, and Squall looks at it. It meets his stare, and looks out again at the plains. The commander flicks his head back to the beautiful view, and sees…Darkness.

_  
I give you my destiny.  
I'm giving you all of me.  
I want your symphony, singing in all that I am  
At the top of my lungs, I'm giving it back. _

Squall feels himself falling, and images flick before his eyes. The oak, burning. The water polluted and brackish, dark, shadowy creatures, swarming over the golden savannah, the shifter running, blood pouring down his face, to the lands boundaries, moving to cross it…then stopping, and turning round to face the enemy, vowing to fight-__

So I lay my head back down.  
And I lift my hands and pray  
To be only yours, I pray, to be only yours  
I pray, to be only yours  
I know now you're my only hope. 

-Back to the wall, fighting against immeasurable odds, he roars a name, out of desperation.

"SQUAAAALLLLLLLLL!"

And then the commander has a body, a lion's body, with wings no less, trapped in a prison of crystal. He raises himself up on his hind legs, and with a snarl, brings his two front paws down on the bluish, icy-cold wall.

Then darkness again.__

Hmmmmm, hmmmmm, oooooh.

_**Yes, I love this song. Well cut long story short I was writing this chapter and found that this song fits just right-it wasn't originally a song-fic-chapter. Mandy Moore, please don't sue, your song is NOT mine. (Called only hope-go download it, its beautiful) The idea is that this song is playing in the background while this dream sequence is carrying out. Anyway very important to the plot. VERY. (Both song and my original stuff)**_

_**Next update: more plot twists and another dream sequence (with a lot more action. A HELL of a lot more action) **_


	5. Dancing with death

With the Raganok circling ever closer, Dawn pushed herself deeper into the shadows. As the ship passed over-head, the outcast looked at it, with a mixture of fear and admiration. Like its organic counterparts, the flying harbinger of doom was truly beautiful. Like most things in life, its far more scary to have you're destruction to be pretty.

With a sinking heart she realised that there was no running now. The seeds, once they touched down would place the city under total lock down. No escape. Game over.

She began to make her way down to the square, where the dragonic flying machine had touched down. Might as well go down with a bang, after all.

Squall faced the galabdian in front of him, and walked down the ramp. Both men surveyed each other on the earth, as the rest of the seeds piled out of the ship, forming two neat rows behind their commander. The president was already flanked by mages and solders, which mostly had projectile weaponry.

In the back of Squalls mind, tiny alarm bells began to ring.

Why do you need us? Squall thought. You have enough muscle power here on your own-are the rebel groups that strong. If they are not, why are we here?

The president smiled coldly. "I am afraid, Commander Leonhart, that the circumstances have changed. I was expecting a quick arrival on your part, yet you spent six hours getting here. With your fine spacecraft, I was expecting at a maximum of two hours. What is your excuse?"

"Sir. We have to prepare the ship and Seeds for arrival, and as you are well aware, we must abide by the air speed limits whilst flying to avoid accidents. We _Also_ told you when we were to arrive, and we have arrived on time."

"You are not needed anymore commander. We have already captured the rebels."

He gestured with one hand loosely at huddled figures behind him, mostly in their teens, but children and the elderly are just as noticeable in the crowds.

"If you have done our job for us, it is still standard procedure to claim travelling expenses-unless you have another job for us."

The president turned away. "In actual fact Commander I do."

Spinning round smoothly and meeting Squalls eye, the president looked at his men.

"Commander, your last order from me is to _die._"

On this cue, the solider behind the power hungry man raised their sub-auto machine guns and opened fire.

Dawn, watching the show, saw this as an opportunity to help the captives whilst the two superpowers tussled. Jumping off the fire escape, on which she was perched she then padded off towards the commotion. Perhaps, she thought wistfully, the dictator has bitten off more than he can chew.

Squall was suddenly very glad for G.F. enhancements, and seed training, and to be still breathing. His instincts, which were abnormally high even without any G.F.'s, being a sorceress' knight, were working overtime, dodging bullets that rained down on him, and deflecting the bullets that he couldn't. He was soon was moving so fast he was a blur. All that could be heard was the rattle of machine guns and the ping of bullets on gunblade. Every time a bullet hit the blue blade, there was a blinding flash of light, as the estharian metal sparked in protest.

Spinning… 

_So fast…_

_It hurt…_

Snarling, he felt red hot metal slice across his arm.

Concentrate! Squall screamed mentally. _Keep_ going!

His weapon was heating up, glowing white blue, a flaming brand leaving an after image in the air, making the commander harder to hit.

Whilst Squall danced with death, Quistis, second in command, started barking out orders. Seeds changed formations, the projectile specialists and mages moving forward and taking aim. It was apparent that Squall was changing positions too fast to cast a protect spell, so the mages contented themselves with blasting the enemy.

Dawn crawled on hr stomach, under Para magic and bullets that buzzed like flies over her head. The first huddled figure was dead, hit by a stray bullet. The second was Kim, scared out of her mind and barely coherent. Her slang, language and accent got worse the more frightened she got.

"Shut up shutupshtupshutup" Dawn hissed as she cut her bonds, and then was forced to tackle her as she tried to get up. A firaga spell whistled over her head, witch would have vaporised the panicky teen. Shoving her head in the muddy ground Dawn carried on to the next captive…

Squall pirouetted over to the next man and promptly decapitated him, whilst the last two were taken out by the Seeds. The momentum of his fight caused the Gunblade to fly out of his hands and bury itself into the wall beside him, as he cannoned backwards, landing heavily on his back.

Grinning, Zell bounced over and helped him up. Squall panted, doubling over as lactic acid seared into seemingly every muscle in his body.

"That was so cool man I'd li! H-hey! One of them is free!"

Dawn suddenly found out how much it hurt to have her hand stepped on. She screeched and tried to fight back, but Zell was having none of it. Wrapping a paw round her wrist, he dragged her towards the Seed officers beside the Raganok. Pulling a fancy salute, he brandished his find to Xu, whose eyes lit up in shock.

"Zel- I mean Mr. Dincht, who is…this?"

"I dunno, I just found her sniffing around the captives, what do you want me to do?"

A click echoed around the square, and Zell stiffened as he felt cold steel press against his neck.

"Well, blondie, I dunno 'bout her, but I would like to see you _let the hell go of my friend_." Kim stated grimly.

"Brave-very brave kid…" stated Zell, keeping his body loose…then sweeping his legs round and throwing himself on his back, using his arm as a pivot. Somewhere above his head, the woman's gun discharged, the faint crack telling Zell that it used a silencer, and thus his aggressor frequently used sneak attacks. The bullet in question sank itself into Xu's shoulder.

"…But not quiet good enough." He finished, pressing a foot on her throat.

"Scratch that Xu, make that two captives."

"I'm no kid! How dare you call me 'kid'! You soddin' seeds think your sooo tough don't you!" Zell tried to hold Kim away from him slightly as she raged on and on, whilst keeping her in his firm grip.

"A little help!" he yelled, as Kim began kicking his leg.

Voices began to be raised and soon everyone was shouting over each other, trying to restore order or otherwise. It rose and people began milling around. Towards the Raganok, then away, eddies in the flow of seeds. People began jogging, then running, in pointless circles. Seeds reduced to rabble.

"_ENOUGH!" _

How can one voice be loud and quiet at the same time, how can one voice be so civilised and full of primal rage in the same nanosecond? However he did it, Squall managed the feat, and it brought all in earshot to a sudden stop. Without missing a beat he began rapping out orders, bringing order once more. Seeds retreated back in the Raganok, messages were sent over the space ships radio, explaining what had just taken place. And somehow Dawn found herself and her second in command placed under direct scrutiny of the commander.

Her resemblance to him was striking, to say the least.

She was basically the same size and shape as him. They had the same hair colour, but hers was far longer. They had the same facial shape, but his was slightly sharper. However, he hadn't got her eyes – well he had one of them…they were the same eyes she had had before the Galabadian attack, stormy blue with flecks of grey. She wondered if they changed colour according to how he felt, like hers did…

…She hadn't got his eyes – well she had one of them…stormy blue with flecks of grey, but the other was bright green, like oak leaves, again flecked, but with an amber colouration. He wondered if they changed colour according to how she felt, like his did…

Squall was the first to break the silence, necessity complied him too.

"You freed your companions and escaped whilst there was confusion in the aftermath of the shootings…everyone still living after the aforementioned event escaped unharmed."

He tossed her a ring of keys.

"You have five minutes. The time may come when we need all the help we can get. Go now. I am sure that we will meet again."

She nodded and ran to begin her task.

Irvine Kinneas was currently board out of his mind. It stood to reason really, the desert was not exactly the most interesting place in the world-unless you have a thing for sand dunes. Scuffing at a stone for the hundredth time, he frowned in frustration. Quistis had to hid him from the Galabain government-that much was obvious. And, yes, the Centra content is about as far from Galabdia as you can get. What bugged him, and what he couldn't understand is _why he was in the middle of a freaking dust bath._ Why not hide in Onin's digs, or Edeas place, or the Chocbo Forest? WHY?

Perhaps, he reflected, she was still pissed from the Seed party. Personally he blamed the alcohol in the punch…that he spiked himself…and promptly forgot about…but really, it wasn't his fault that half the entire Seeds present got themselves rat-arsed.

Quisty was way too serious, he reflected. And so was Squall. Man, he was glad that

He _never_ found out who spiked that punch- Squall would have _maimed_ him.

He crawled into the tent there and then, laughing to himself. Watching Quisty table dancing would be something he would _never_ let the G.F's take from him.

The scout bug watched in interest as the man retreated into the tent. Protocol and orders flashed through its silicon brain, and it sent out a signal with its findings encoded over old radio waves. At half the size of a grat it was perfect for recon missions. Its message was simple:

_Target found image_

_Location: 20 miles from perimeter._

_Requesting assistance._

**_Yeah! another chapter! Whoot me!_**

**__**

**__**

**_Yes, i am that sad._**

**__**


	6. Primary Findings

Whee! New chapter! New chapter! Anyway as a little note…Erech Von Hane speaks in a strong accent. Think Indian/Chinese hybrid with other under tones and a grammatical deficiency. He always refers to himself as 'He' not 'I' this is due to his first language being Centrian.

Enjoy!

Windows To The Soul:

Chapter 6.

_Click, Click, Click…_the researcher leaned closer to the tablet, whilst typing his findings.

_Click, Click, Click…_His associate, and friend, Danvil was going to make a book on Centrian archaeological finds. This would be the icing on the cake for his work. Usually, archaeologists didn't share their findings for free, but well, Danvil and him had always done it. They were like brothers, both working towards a common goal, and it made more sense. Danvil wrote about the findings, and he, Erech Von Hane worked mostly hands on with the evidence.

Erech earlier that week had been approached by a government official, with a large amount of taxpayer's money, promises of funding and a very rare artefact. Like anyone else with his passion, he had jumped at the opportunity.

He had sent Dan his Primary findings, even if he had been expressly forbidden doing so. Dan could keep his mouth shut, and as he was going to have the results after he had show it to the 'Boss' (whoever the hell he was), then why not give Danny a head start. God knows, it took him long enough to write the damn book in the first place.

With a pneumatic hiss the doors behind him opened, and three men stepped in.

"Erech Von Hane, I presume?"

Hane swivelled into round in his chair, and looked at the man before him. Making a clicking noise with his tongue, he nodded.

" I am he."

"My name is Beville, and I am your employer. I wish to know your progress Hane."

"He is doing verra well, veerrra well! Primary translation is complete! Yesyes!"

"Primary translation, Hane?"

"Yesyes!"

"Forgive me of my ignorance", Beville drawled, "but why _Primary_? Is there more than one?"

"You know lot oooo' history, bu' no translation, nono, no translation."

Beville frowned, "Which means…?"

"Centra script, manymany translations! Too manymany to list! Each word manymany translations. No difference between male or female, thing or name, person or animal. Each word has manymany meaning, depending on position of script, or even reader!"

"So the primary script is…?"

"Best fit, one of many best fit, written from Beville point of view."

"So it is written how I would read it?"

"Yesyes, if Beville could read it! Only those who speak Centra as mother tongue can read script-He is the last-yesyes, the last! After He dies…." The excitable man slowed down and stopped. "…No people read script, ever." He cast his eyes on the floor.

Beville pricked his metaphorical ears forward at this. The last? That meant that he would be the only one to hold the true meaning of the prophecy…if something _fatal_ would halt the heavily accented researcher. Acting on impulse, he told Erech:

"Hane, I have come to the conclusion that I no longer need you."

Erech snapped his head up, but not fast enough to avoid the piping that smashed into his cranium. His death was painless, but messy.

And with that, Erech Von Hane, the last person on Gaia who could decipher ancient Centrian, stepped from this life to the next, but not before his spirit witnessed one final scene of life.

Beville dropped the pipe, which he had grabbed in the heat of the moment, now dripping with blood and gore. The clatter of metal hitting metal flooring resounded around the deathly silent room

"Was that…necessary…. Master?" asked one guard uncertainly.

"Explain, commander."

"…The pipe, master, would it not have been more…practical to use a more conventional weapon…?" '_And less of a gore-fest' _He added silently.

"Hmmm, perhaps you're right, I shall try again."

Whipping a revolver out, the guard didn't even have time to flinch as a bullet punched through his skull, killing him efficiently.

"Sir, you are fired." Beville said allowing himself a small giggle. "And you," he said twisting round to face the last, breathing guard, "take heed - what ever I do: It. Is. Always. Necessary."

Things were going peachy, just darn peachy, for Irvine. Yep, he wouldn't want to be _anywhere_ else. He just _loved_ being tied down on a metal board in complete darkness.

He blinked, not that it made any difference. Eyes opened, eyes closed, it was all the Hyne-damned same. Pitch black.

Joy.

Both Zell and Seifer stood in the commander's office, both trying to look vaguely innocent. Both failed miserably.

"Explain…explain to me how, and more importantly, _why _you decided to start a brawl, when we are one the verge of war!"

Squall glared at them, his stormy grey eyes turning a lighter, brighter shade in outrage. Silence stretched out for seemingly eternity as Squall met both their eyes, Zell casting his eyes down and fiddling with his tattered and torn Seed uniform, Seifer matching the glare before his eyes, one of which being ringed with interesting shades of black and blue, were lowered in submission.

"Then perhaps telling me how you thought that showing cadets and seeds how undisciplined you two are strengthened the Gardens position at all?"

More silence.

"You, Zell, how old are you? Twelve? You're an instructor, and yet you behave like a cadet drop-out."

"And You, Seifer." The smirk on his face that appeared while Squall was grilling Zell immediately vanished. "You are on probation. How much do you want to be expelled?"

'_Awww…Crap'._ Thought Seifer, whilst the little, insecure part of his brain he denied having curled up in a ball and whimpered.

Squall steepled his fingers and rested his chin on them, whilst his good conscience wrestled with his evil, irony loving one, as the pure evil was taking bets from all the other divisions of his conscience on who was going to win.

Good said in a quite, but firm voice that punishment from Seed Protocol would suffice. The Irony yelled loudly, about abusing his power so they would be forced to stay together for a month or more, and then sending their remains to the cemetery in matchboxes. Pure Evil bellowed from the sidelines about kicking seven kinds of hell out of them.

As always, nether consciences won, and so he was forced to make the decision on his own.

"Zell, you are hereby put on probation." The spiky haired blond nodded glumly.

"Seifer, you are very…very close to being kicked out the Garden. However…I have decided to let you off…somewhat. You cannot and _will not_ leave the garden. At. All. Unless you are needed in a mission, which in itself is unlikely."

"Until when Puber- I mean, Commander?"

"Until I and the Garden staff have deemed that you can achieve something that isn't counterproductive." Answered Squall, silently fuming at Seifer's slip.

Seifer opened his mouth to complain, then thought better about it. There were a whole lot of people who wanted him lynched, for things he had done whilst under the sorceress' control, and the Garden was his refuge. His only refuge.

"…You are dismissed."

As the two men walked out of the office the 'chicken-wuss' stopped and turned to the other blond.

"Is it just me or his he grump-peh?"

Seifer just stood there, suppressing his urges to kill.

It was the middle of the night when the letter came. Written with all the tact of a crooked politician, it told all who needed to know whose life was in danger, where to come and who could stop his untimely demise. The letter stated that it wanted a peace agreement, that the commander and two others were to come, and only the commander could enter the base where Irvine Kinneas was being held.

Squall had a problem. A rather big problem, namely: he'd_ rather kill himself than to go into a desert. Or any vast, open space._

He had emerged from Time Compression so emotionally scarred; he'd only recently been able to leave the garden, without feeling fear so strong…. He couldn't even get to the flower-field of Edea's orphanage, without setting off a panic-attack. Time Compression, had left him very mentally unstable, even if he didn't show it. And now, if he didn't go to one of the largest deserts in the world, one of his team, one of his friends, would die.

_Hyne, why me? Dear Hyne…why me?_

_**Whoot, I finally did a new chapter! **_

**_Firstly, I have to say thank you to Omega Gilgamesh who seemingly my sole reviewer. I have to thank him for pointing out my crappy spellings, which are going to be changed…when I get around to it. But I disagree with the censorship comment. Firstly, my 10-year-old brother knows words a heck of a lot more bad than the stuff in the previous chapters. (Namely Kim's little speech) but I will cut it down and make it more PG. But, I have to say that we are dealing with MERCINARIES. You know people who are paid to KILL. And in a war zone I doubt people would watch their language when people are trying there hardest to wipe them off the planet…_**

_**Still, rules are rules.**_

The great thing is I have actually got an excuse for my absence! (Instead of the cock 'n bull I usually feed people).

_**I had what you could call an interesting reaction to a chocolate chip cookie. If you consider interesting to have your face swell up and stuff. Anywho, I was high on medication to bring the reaction down for a couple of days. And when I say high, I mean SKY high. Kinda like a mixture of speed and 30cc's of tranquillizers.**_

_**Fun. NOT.**_

_**And for the other days…uhhh….**_

_**Hey look over there!**_

_**Runs away **_


End file.
